


Day Twenty-Four: Love

by AfinaArchives



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Voidtember2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfinaArchives/pseuds/AfinaArchives
Summary: There are some out there who thought the Magistrix incapable of love.
Relationships: None
Collections: Voidtember2019





	Day Twenty-Four: Love

There are some out there who thought the Magistrix incapable of love. Perhaps it was for the way she composed herself, maintaining a professional demeanor at most times. Perhaps it was for the fact that she chose to live alone with her cat, turning down potential offers when made. Perhaps it was for her dedication to her craft, which others saw as marriage to her work.

They were wrong on all accounts; Afina was filled to the brim with love.

“Eros” or erotic love was only one type of love and although it is natural to feel it, it is also natural to not feel it. That passing glance which set hearts aflame was not something she ever could experience, but to see it in her friends as they found their own loves brought a smile to her face.

“Philia” or affectionate love was something she had much of. She had affection for her compatriots, her students, her coworkers, her friends. They were the people who come into life at the drop of a hat - yet have the power to change it! Such a magic a friend can hold.

“Storge” or familial love was another, for Afina clung to her memories of those both living and dead. She would think back to her days as a child, learning enchanting from her mother and the paths of the forest from her father. She would think to her little sister Amet, and wonder how she was doing. Writing a letter which would go unanswered, Afina held out hope because no matter what happened, she was still a big sister. Leaning back once it was finished, Afina always held Erik close. His rumbling purrs never failed to calm her nerves, come what may.

“Mania” or obsessive love was for her studies, in seeking new forms to keep the Void within at bay. It was spurred on by a want of life, to live. She loved her work, how it helped others who similarly suffered. They would overcome this, they all would.

“Agape” or selfless love she was known for. Afina was the woman who would take a blow for her comrades. Afina was the woman who would speak when no one else could. Afina was the one who foolishly acted when others were endangered. She was selfless in her love and loved dangerously.

“Ludus” or playful love had been nurtured these past few years. Her enchanting used finally for something other than war. Performing parlor tricks once again Afina felt a smile creep onto her face each time the room was filled with her friend’s laughter. This, yes THIS was what magic was for.

“Philautia” or self love was difficult, a constant struggle in learning. As a child she had been filled with resentment. Resentment for her treatment, resentment for how the words of her peers could get under her skin and haunt her through the night. Was she really trash? Could a person be worth less simply because of their hair, their clothes, their bloodline? Her father had been a good man, and for the life of her Afina could not wrap her young mind around why her classmate’s parents looked down upon him and his gardens or her mother for standing by his side. As a young woman she was filled with a powerful ambition, to be more, to forge herself into the coming dawn which would forever change Quel’thalas. Those nobles would be forced to abide by the same laws as commoners, they would be forever forced to listen… And as a woman that ambition had been stomped upon, by wars and famine and plague. Those she had fought for were gone, and without them the goal she had been pushing towards held no meaning. She held no meaning… She had hated herself, and it was only when she allowed herself to love others once more that she slowly was able to find bits of herself she could come to love again.

“Pragma” or enduring love she felt most of all - for there was nothing in this world stronger. They could try, to break her, to lead her astray, to doubt. They would fail.

For an enduring love is stronger than this mortal coil, than the chains which hold us down. It existed before each of us were born, and it will endure long after we are gone in the hearts of those we touched.


End file.
